Wednesday, January 2, 2002

the abc's of my sexual history

okay, so i am not doing such a good job of being 2002. as has been mentioned already, i have spent the day doing jack shit, daydreaming, thinking about shit, and masturbating - basically being 1996. i realized this tonight about an hour ago when i was hit with a moment of deja vu.

somewhere else other than my bedroom floor - somewhere blissful, maybe even heaven, lost in the euphoric joy produced by toying my penis with my right hand and rubbing my twelve year old hairless chest with my cold left hand producing a trail of goosebumps mirroring the path of my chilly hand. debbie harry moaned rapture in a song, and yeah yeah that's what it was debbie: pure and utter rapture. my hands were flirting with my body, and my body, being the easy slut as usual, succumbed to my hands' passes.

on the worn carpet of my bedroom floor, but not really (remember it was heaven, or at least someplace with nice carpet), it happened and it was all so high school. this is how i spent so much of my time in high school - in this same physical state on my bedroom floor and in this la-la land mental state. and, then there was the deja vu moment that made me realize how 1996 i still am, despite my resolution to be 2002.

so that my family would not hear me during this little session, i listened to some music. dc 101 (an alt rock station, or so they claim) provided the soundtrack. i was blissfully unaware that i was being 1996, jacking-off on my bedroom floor quietly, so hoping that no one knocked on my door. this state of bliss, however was altered by a song that came on. stp's interstate love song. damn, i used to fucking love that song. back in ninteen motherfucking ninetysix! ahh! it just all felt so pathatically like what i would do every afternoon after getting home from school. masturbating on my bedroom floor, fantasizing about people from high school, listening to whfs or dc 101. and here i am, a junior in college doing the exact same motherfucking thing, listening to one of the same songs. it was all just so eerie. scot weiland's wails gave me shivers of all the wrong kind. not the you're so dreamy, you make me shiver kind, even though i still think weiland is pretty damn dreamy. it was rather a damn i have not changed at all type shiver.

anyways, however weird weiland may have made me feel, nothing was going to interfere with my hands' intentions. my hands got laid and i got to hear a rad song that i have not heard in such a long time. i then cleaned myself and got dressed.

i've resorted to these stars, unable to think of a decent transition to a random thought i had right before writing this: so, i'm daydreaming away, thinking about boys that i've hooked up with. and for some random reason, i was wondering how many people i had slept with and so i started mentally listing the people. chad, brit, clay, charles, andrew. okay, five people. that is not the interesting thought. all of the people's names i have slept with begin with a, b, or c. i kind of think that's real cool and don't want to mess that up by sleeping with a dan or an ezekial or whatnot. not that there's any chance of me hooking up with anyone soon since i'm a big loser, but i kind of hope that the next person's name i hook up with (however many years away that may be) begins with an a, b, or c. anways, just another t.m.i fact, probably. but being the 1996 boy i am, i was real fascinated by this fact for a good half hour, no joke.

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